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Jan 5, 2015

Kompas column: ‘Friday Night Lights’ binge was a winner

I’m about the furthest thing from a natural athlete there is. I once
broke my leg at a roller skating rink (wait for it) while in the lobby. I
hadn’t skated more than 2 feet when I came crashing down, resulting in
an injury that required surgery. Yep, wasn’t even in the rink. I still
can’t roller skate.

And while there were certainly exceptions,
most athletes I met during my formative years weren’t always the nicest
people. Of course, most teens of any athletic ability aren’t pleasant
company, and I include my teen self. I realize you can’t judge someone
by how he or she behaves at age 16; I’m not sure I want someone judging
me based on how I behaved last week. It’s just if real life were like
the 1980s classic “The Breakfast Club,” I’d be using my dandruff to
enhance my artwork, not sitting with Emilio Estevez at the jocks’ table.

All
this is my way of saying I’m perhaps the most unlikely “Friday Night
Lights” fan there is. But I’ve spent many hours in the past few weeks
binging the much-loved, critically lauded, ratings-challenged NBC series
about a small Texas town’s football team.

I missed “Friday Night
Lights” the first time around; the show has been off the air for more
than three years. I started watching it on Netflix because it’s the
favorite show of my fictional best friend Leslie Knope (Amy Poehler’s
character on “Parks and Recreation,” another much-loved,
ratings-challenged NBC series). If it’s good enough for Leslie, it’s
good enough for me. If I’m seeming like I need to unplug, I assure you, I
read plenty of books every month, too (some without pictures).

Kyle Chandler for president

“Friday
Night Lights” is loosely based on the nonfiction book by H. G.
Bissinger. It also was a 2004 movie starring Billy Bob Thornton as the
head coach, but sometimes it’s hard for me to see him as anything but
“Sling Blade.” I’m assuming any pep talk by him would just make me
nervous. The TV coach is played by the Emmy-winning Kyle Chandler, who
is perfection. The man conveys purpose and intensity even when he’s
cooking bacon in his office.

I grew up in Iowa and have never been
to Texas, but the shots from the show (it was filmed in Austin but the
show makers create convincing rural scenes) were like a postcard from
the past. The show’s Alamo Freeze reminded me of the little ice cream
shop in Le Claire, Iowa, my hometown.

The TV team’s often-repeated
mantra is “Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.” My eyes are not clear
because I’ve stayed up too many nights until 5 in the morning trying to
figure out if the Panthers (then the Lions) would make it to the state
playoffs. I worry that Smash will take steroids to find a shortcut into
the NFL. I get genuinely stressed wondering if new quarterback Vince
will get sucked back into his old life. And what happened to Santiago,
the troubled kid who disappeared after Season Two? Damn that year’s
writers’ strike; I’ll always wonder.